Drafted
by ChromaticDreams
Summary: One enemy, readying for war. One girl, unwillingly caught between universes. One dream: To get back home. (Eleven and OC friendship)


_Drafted  
by LavenderAndTime_

* * *

 _Prologue_

After nineteen years, three months, and twenty-two days of being a person, I've decided I hate talking about myself.

Job applications? Those college admission essays where you have to outline what you think your 'greatest strengths' are? Hate 'em. I hate them with a vehement passion. I'm aware they _want_ you to respond to the prompts honestly, but do they really? Do they want to know who you truly are, or what the world expects you to be?

Having said that, I'm sure a lot of you are wondering why I'm even bothering with all of this in the first place.

I really wish there was an easy answer to that.

I guess you could count this as a warning: Be _very_ careful what you wish for. And yes, that probably is the cheesiest cliché ever, but that in itself doesn't mean it's not true. While I didn't ask for _any_ of this to happen to me, I know there's many out there who do. So, a message for all of the Whovians out there who dream about waking up in the Doctor's world- think again.

There's some dreams you don't want to be pulled into.

* * *

 _Chapter One_

I can swear the second hand of the clock in my seventh period class slowed to an agonizingly slow speed as it approaches the last minute of the day. I told my mother about it once, but she just snorted at me and said I have an overreactive imagination.

I found that idea hilarious.

I scrutinized the thin plastic tab, and watched as it crawled past the ten mark. A few quick glances towards my classmates proved I wasn't alone. Since it's a Friday, everyone was anxious to escape the tight school schedules for a few days. Even by-the-books Mrs. Rodgers stopped the class discussion to watch the clock.

Five seconds left. My legs started to become restless, tapping against the floor.

The bell finally rang its sweet song of freedom for the masses.

Dozens of phones came out of back pockets and purses. The disruptive group of senior boys in the back of the class started laughing about some stupid dick joke again. Meanwhile, I dazedly stumbled out of my chair and began stuffing my chemistry folder and textbook in my backpack. I walked- no, I floated- out of the room and into the wave of classmates and friends and strangers, fully content. It's finally the weekend. Only one more Friday left until spring break. For once, I can take that long, _long_ needed rest, and do absolutely nothing. Be a teenaged sloth. Go on Instagram. Wait for any college acceptance letters to come in. I was _so close_ to crossing those last humps of my high school years. As I contemplated this, I forgot that I was only one in a thousand high school students roaming these hallways. For just a moment, the world seemed new and encouraging and nearly obtainable. I closed my eyes, feeling the stale air brush past my cheeks.

And then I walked straight into a person.

"Sorry," I mumbled, aware that I probably looked like a reddened potato. The football player I bumped into shot me a dirty look, but didn't say anything. How fortunate.

Cautiously this time, I continued down the hall. I considered waiting for my friends Sonja and Nicky for a moment, but then I remembered they both had rehearsal for the school play they're in. They wouldn't be free to hang out for a couple of hours. Damn rehearsals. I bit the edge of my lip glumly, and resolved to text them later tonight. Maybe we could get together at one of our houses this evening. Watch a few movies, or something.

The school cleared out quickly as upperclassmen I didn't know headed for sports practice or the library or dance team rehearsal or home. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced outside. For a mid-March afternoon, the weather's actually not too shabby. Blue sky peeked out from behind a few white puffy clouds, and it was just cold enough to warrant wearing a jacket.

After a quick sip from the water fountain, I walked all the way from senior hall to the back lobby of my school. Time for me to head home as well, because there's a cushy couch in the living room that has my name plastered on it. No, seriously- my name's written on the back cover with permanent marker from when I was five. "Madison Hoyle," it reads in shaky kindergarten handwriting, the 'i' dotted with a heart. I got in so much trouble back then but thinking about it now, it's hilarious.

Anyways, the cool spring air hit me immediately when I exited the building. It felt one thousand percent amazing. I paused for a moment on the wooded sidewalk, simply letting the wind blow patterns on my cheeks. Dainty little flower petals danced between my feet. In the distance, I heard the shouts of the varsity girls' softball team, who were practicing for their mid-season games. The outfielder kept a trained eye on the ball as it flew through the air, and began to sprint after it. Watching this, I felt the urge to sprint as well. Damn my therapist's warnings, I _needed_ to run.

All it took was that one thought, and I'm off. The stretch of sidewalk passed so much more quickly as I sped across it, grinning from ear to ear. My eyes closed. I concentrated on the precise, practiced way my feet pushed off the ground, feeling the stretch and release of the tendons in my calves. The wind whistled around me as I ran, and the world settled into a perfect balance of busyness and serenity.

Once again, I was floating.

And then in one life changing moment, everything that I ever considered normal was taken away, as quickly as a switch being flipped.

I plodded to a halt as a strange tingling sensation spread throughout my body like a wildfire. Weird. Perhaps my physical therapist was right, and I'm not prepared to run again, yet? It's been seven and a half months since the surgery, though. Surely there can't be any more complications now?

As I considered this a bolt of heat shot through my veins, causing my legs to become wobbly. I crumpled to my knees, absolutely breathless. Frantically, I tried to think of another logical possibility, anything. An allergic reaction, maybe? I'd never been stung by a bee, but I knew the allergy ran in my family, with both my mother, my great-aunt, and my sister. Wouldn't I have felt a bee sting me, though?

The pain worsened, rising to its full crescendo. And while I knew I would never be able to explain exactly what I felt, I suddenly began to realize I was fading away. I tried to call out to the nearest softball player on the field adjacent for help. Her name's Sarah Ann. I know because I used to run the 1500 with her last year. Anyways, I try to call her name, but quickly discovered my voice was too weak to shout loud enough. She'd never hear.

Terrified and weak, I curled up on my side and hugged my knees to my heaving chest, praying to any deity that could _possibly_ exist to make the searing pain go away.

I watched dainty pink petals brush against my forehead just before I blacked out.

* * *

I woke up with a startle, and with nausea building up at the back of my throat. The burning sensation had disappeared, but apparently- so did everything else. Where _was_ I? What happened?

The first concrete thing I noticed was the frosty coolant billowing out from holes in the metal flooring all around me. The coolant definitely was a large factor but even despite this, the air here- wherever _here_ was- felt really cold.

Suddenly, my spine arched forward on its own command. I retched violently.

 _Eww_. I made a deep grimace at the sight of the cheep, mushed, watery cafeteria food in a pile right in front of my face. It smelt absolutely retched, like spoilt milk topped off with week old meet loaf. A bit of it touched the tip of my nose, almost causing me to gag again. As I brought my right arm to my face to wipe the sick off, I made my second observation.

There's a thick, silvery bracelet clamped to my arm, and it definitely wasn't mine. I mean, I didn't even _like_ jewelry. So where the hell did that come from?

I tussled with it for a few moments, but came to a quick realization that it wasn't coming off anytime soon. With the knowledge that I'd probably have to suck up and deal and get used to wearing this ugly thick bangle, I looked at it a bit closer. The odd bracelet had a nice curvature to it, for one. No harsh edges to speak of. At its center, there were a bunch of interwoven circles and semicircles etched into the silver metal. It vaguely reminded me of the circle-y design on those cups they give you if you buy a drink in the Pizza Hut they have in Target stores. Okay, so maybe the bracelet didn't look _that_ ugly. It actually seemed pretty sleek, for what it was worth.

There are definitely worse things that could be attached to one's body indefinitely, I suppose.

I heard movement somewhere nearby. It sounded a bit like a... a conveyer belt? The sound was coming from somewhere above. No, hold on- it was beside me.

Or what if it was all around me...?

Two cylindrical lights lit up about five feet into the air in front of me. It was dark enough that I couldn't quite tell if there was anything attached to them, or if they were magically floating in the air. I thought I might have seen arms reaching out, however.

"Uhh... hello?" I muttered cautiously. "N-not sure if you can understand any of this, but what is this place? Where am I"

It didn't respond. As my eyes continued to acclimate to my new surroundings the figure's silhouette became more clear, and I realized it was a robot. Oh, great. Knowing my stellar luck today, this meant it probably couldn't help me at all. The twin light sources at the top of its dome (head?) flicked on and off again.

"Test subject located," the robot droned, the blinky lights activating on the beat of the syllables. "Take subject to testing zone A-zero-zero-five-one for further experimentation."

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

I had to get out of here ASAP. No way in hell I was turning into robotic experimentation fodder. I tried to roll onto my knees to stand up, but it's like all the muscles in my core have liquified into a warm, thick jelly.

The robot rolled closer. I could now see my reflection in the golden spherical orbs coating the entire lower half of its metallic body. My heart pounded some kind of heavy rock number in my chest. Desperately, I tried to kick it away with my feet. At least they were still working. This seemed to be deterring it for a little while, but then it pointed one of its arms at me and after what it said next I realized this arm was really some kind of weapon.

"Do not resist, or you will be ex-ter-mi-nated!"

I closed my eyes, and screamed.

I felt pretty idiotic for doing so, especially since I'm the type of person who gets pissed off at all those Hollywood movies making the female characters be "the screamers," but you know what? Forget all of that. Just forget it. I understand now. If something's utterly scary, _you're gonna scream._

A bright light pressed against my closed eyelids, and the air grew considerably warmer. Was... was that a laser, or something? Was I dying? I didn't feel anything, but I've obviously not died before. How would I know for sure?

"Madison!"

I kept screaming, although it sounded more like a mangled animal cry by now.

" _Madison_! Hey!"

A hand prodded at my shoulder. My eyes snapped open. Hmm. Pink petals. Sidewalk.

"What happened? Did you faint, or was it your ACL again?"

Drowsily, I roll onto my back. The face talking to me belongs to Ms. Wallace, the assistant softball couch and my track mentor. I open my mouth to reply, but after the strange events I experienced my brain feels empty. I glance towards my arm, and see that the silver bracelet is gone. There's no metallic torture robot. I can move properly. Everything's back to normal. Just a nightmare.

Except deep down, I knew it wasn't. No nightmare could feel as real as that.

* * *

AN- The silver bracelet is on the story's cover, if you'd like to know what it looks like. I'd like to put a bit of a new spin on the popular "Whovian OC gets thrown into the Doctor's universe" format. Hopefully, a more realistic spin. Because sometimes, the Doctor can destroy the lives of others without meaning to, and I think that's a fascinating concept to explore.

Madison will meet the Eleventh Doctor next chapter. He's traveling solo at this time, during those 200 years before he died at Lake Silencio. (He's in his mid 1000s, basically.) I'd love to hear any thoughts, suggestions, or comments on this first chapter, especially since this will be my first time constructing a major original character. Thanks a bunch!  
-LavenderAndTime


End file.
